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Friday, 10 February 2017

Three Days In The Life Of A Tired Pout

The Photographer "enjoyed" a routine annual investigation under anaesthetic, so needed taxi-ing. Not a dressy occasion by any stretch of the imagination but I felt like dressing a bit smart. Ladylike. Rebelling from recent jeans and woolly rut. Thankfully!

I wore my N St J Paint glass beads and earrings. Thought the look was a bit 60s. Again. Or maybe 40s, with those shoes.

Next jacket. My old Tie Rack silk scarf in black, grey and beige.

(Oh look, the scarf's got a huge L for Ladylike!)

The Photographer appreciated my efforts and actually volunteered a compliment rather than the usual of me bullying coaxing one out of him.

I've said it countless times before, but put me in a little skirt and some comfy heels and I strut around the place like Lady Muck! Does a particular outfit change your strut?

Pick up TP from hospital, later than expected (all is pretty much good with him). Fast ready for my fasting blood test early next day.

Tuesday, Day 2

Take self to early morning fasting blood test.

Looking tired.

Jeans now creeping in, but still making effort with Next jacket and Artigiano sleeveless top for easy nurse access. Jewellery reduced to simple stud earrings.

But I've been awake from 2am with sciatica pain, planning the toast, coffee and sleep I will enjoy after early morning fasting blood test. Arrived at doctor's surgery in good time but without blood test form, forgotten due to lack-of-sleep daze.

She tells me that normally she'd just pop down the corridor to sort it out with my doctor, but he's skiing on a far-off mountain right now. And no she can't test as per the tests I've had like clockwork for the past umpteen years, because this year my doctor may want to test something different. So the message is clear: no form, no blood test. Nurse refuses to succumb to my bullying charm to squeeze me in later when I've dashed home to collect the form (a 20 minute round trip) as she's chocka but helpfully finds a mid-morning slot for me with other nurse at other surgery.

Toast, coffee and nap experience delayed but still do-able. Am taxi-ing The Photographer to and from his voluntary job today as he can't drive because of anaesthetic yesterday, so I drop him off at office and head home.

I work at staying awake and blocking visions of toast, coffee and nap rewards after blood test. Arrive early at other surgery, hoping for earlier slot to speed up my rewards. Other nurse sees me at the appointed time and has several attempts (stabs) at my arm, peruses alternative arm then gives up to consult with colleague.

After due consultation they decide that my arms make me a "difficult" patient and I must be referred to the "experts" in the Path Dept at our local hospital. Initially, they offer me a walk-in slot of 12pm (with toast coffee and snooze rewards now just a fading mirage). However, experts decide that a "difficult"patient needs a designated slot so am given slot early the following morning. Go home, devour toast and coffee but snooze window no longer available as they faffed so long that I am now getting close to TP pick up time.

Fast again from teatime. Sleep reasonably OK.

Wednesday, Day 3

Early morning fasting blood test, now desperate for coffee and toast.

Efforts at Ladylike now abandoned in favour of jeans and woolly, a long East cardi. Still wearing nurse-friendly top. No effort made to jewellerise (yup, spellcheck doesn't like the word but I do!)

Refreshed after reasonable night's sleep. Arrive early at Path Dept, now desperate. Turns out "early" is relative. My early was to theirs just too early, all is locked up.

Stomp around outside, thinking of toast and coffee once more. No nap required as slept reasonably well. Toast and coffee thoughts take me back to Dept door. I bang bullingly loudly on it. Door is unlocked without comment by scared young girl, and I am let in.

I rip off my woolly and present my arm. Experts are a little deterred by bruises which have now appeared from yesterday's stabbings. They manage to find a thin oil line in other arm and ... eureka, they do indeed strike oil!

I'm outta there, home to toast and coffee (tasting even better than yesterday's) and you know what, I didn't need a nap ... but I had one anyway. It was fab-u-lous, dahlings!

Hi Stephanie, Oh dear, I must have written this badly - no NHS service or other service was put under strain or given the runaround in the making of this post! The UK's NHS doesn't cover us here and our checks were obligatory. The Chaos Theory applies here - if I'd not been kept awake by pain I would have remembered my form, the annual test would have been perfunctory and this blog would be without its scoop story!!

Hi Anna, glad you spotted me going from bejewelled beskirted lady to old cardi and jeans wearer in three days! You must have suffered these past few weeks, being denied food you love - are you OK with toast now or was I twisting the knife with toast as this post's strapline?

Glad to read that they finally struck oil and, I agree with Anna oMSaY, you look particularly fab after the 'event' even if you think it's not lady-like. I would call that fashionable and stylish; isn't that the same thing? :o)